Poetry.
He tastes her warm kisses,
Enjoys her perfume;
But, truant like, often
The sweets that he sips
Are lavished the next moment
On lovelier lips.
One day a frog
Sat on a log
And meditated there.
When from his tongue
The chorus rung
Begone, begone, dull care,
He took a leap,
And from the deep
Came music rich and rare.
Hundreds at once
Made full response,
Begone, begone, dull care,
The chorus ran
Through all the glen,
The regions of the air
Though dense with fogs,
Echoed the frogs,
Begone, begone, dull care,
PLEASURES (?) OF MEMORY.
A college lad
With a rich dad
Said he would cut a “ dash.”
He went, therefore,
To the seashore
To take a briny splash.
He saw a “gal”
He liked so well,
That he became her mash,
She knew by name
He was her “ game,”
Yes, “deader” yet than "hash.”
He had the “ tin,”
She “ blew it in,”
And “bled” him for his cash,
She showed him sights,
Through days and nights
That made him very rash.